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Page 244
"Oh God!" Ian choked on laughter. "I do not mean that. I mean Some nights past I swore I would content you. I am not so sure I can."
"What?" Alinor shook her head in disbelief and surprise. "How can you say such a thing? Two minutes ago you were showing the whole world how able and ready you are to content me."
"I am too ready," Ian cried, laughing helplessly. "I greatly fear that if I lay one hand upon you or you upon me, my overripe readiness will burst."
Alinor giggled, although her breath was coming short and quick. "Think of something nasty," she suggested, "disemboweled horses, slimy drinking water"
But Alinor was not really worried. She knew it would not matter. She had been longer without mating than Ian, and the sight of him, the rough jests, were stimulation enough. She needed no preparing this night; she was as ready as he. He could hardly be too quick for her this time, unless he could not hold himself for even two strokes or three. She leaned closer, as if to whisper more horrors in his ear, and tickled it with her tongue instead.
That was enough. Ian pushed Alinor flat and flung himself upon her. The movement wrenched his knee cruelly, but he did not feel it then. Once, his shaft slid past her sheath. Alinor shifted eagerly and the second thrust brought him safely home. Together they groaned as if mortally wounded, but neither was dead yet. For one long moment Ian held his breath, straining chest and shoulders upward and away while his hips pressed down, perfectly still. Alinor held her breath, too. Then his head came forward, his eyes opened; his battle had been fought and won. Gently he let himself down upon her, sought her lips; slowly he began to move, seeking the position and rhythm that would bring her to joy.

"You are no oath breaker," Alinor said eventually.
Her head was nestled comfortably into the hollow of

 
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